The Dead Don't Talk

by Lawrence J Epstein

  “Underneath it, Danny, we all are hungry for victory. We are desperate for it. We remain calm on the outside. We smile, and we shake hands. But nobody in this business loses gracefully. That includes me. The Governor is tough because he has to be. I’m aware of what you say, but, if I dig deeply enough inside myself, I have to admit that I think he can teach me a couple of valuable political lessons. He can teach me to find my inner toughness.”

  Then the Congressman had that look on his face, the one he gets when he’s going to say what you don’t want to hear but he doesn’t care.

  “Danny, I assume you like your job. We both know no one else would hire you. We both know you’re good, but you’ve made some powerful enemies. That would make a job search difficult. And then there’s that other matter. I really like you, Danny. You’re invaluable. You’re unusually bright. You’re lucky you have brains. You don’t cause trouble. When people complain about you, they’re wrong. But I’m a supporter of Governor Alden. With any luck I will be in his Administration. Don’t mess up your future. Learn to like him. Learn to be his supporter.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Focus mostly on this murder for a few weeks and then get back to piling up my margin of victory. I want to win by ten points. That’s a landslide.”

  I nodded.

  I decided to put Governor Alden out of my mind and help Rabbi London if I could. I didn’t tell the Congressman, but my favorite part of the job was that I was in a position to help people. People took my calls because I worked for a Congressman. They said “Yes” to me because I worked for a Congressman. Even if I couldn’t get another job, this was a good one to have.

  There was one problem. I didn’t like looking into unsolved murders. You annoy the police. You annoy the community by poking around the past. And worst of all you annoy the murderer who might not appreciate the attention, especially after getting away with it for a while.

  I figured I’d start by talking to a hit man I knew, the “other matter” the Congressman said would prevent me from getting another job. I figured I had a chance with the hit man.

  He was my father.

  CHAPTER THREE

  I stepped out of the office.

  Janet D’Amaro, who was in charge of Constituent Services, came over and put her hand on my arm. If someone had a problem with Social Security, or with the VA, or a citizenship issue, or any one of a million other problems, Janet dealt with the person. She was small with wide, pretty brown eyes and a smile she could exchange for a small country.

  “Hey, Danny. Can we talk privately?”

  “Sure.”

  “Let’s get some fresh air.”

  I was surprised by this, but I followed her outside.

  We walked to the side of the building.

  “Are you all right, Janet?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “How can I make your life easier?”

  “Make my boyfriend ask me to marry him.”

  “You want brass knuckles or a Bowie knife?”

  “Gentle persuasion.”

  “That’s my specialty,” I said.

  She smiled.

  I swear the air got ten degrees warmer.

  “It’s a problem at work, Danny.”

  “It’s Ennis, right?”

  “In part. He assigned me a job. I mean that’s what he’s supposed to do, but this one has me going in circles.”

  “What is it?”

  “Oppo research. I’ve never done it before. What am I supposed to do?”

  “Do you know much about Ken Lucey?”

  She shrugged. “Yes. A bit. We should have started the research earlier. I mean he got the nomination in May. We knew we were going to face him in November. Why are they waiting until now?”

  “Because they checked the FEC records. He raised a lot of money. More than we did. More than we thought he would. When the Federal Election Commission speaks, we have to listen. I don’t think anyone took him seriously before now. He’s a carpetbagger. He moved here ten months ago. He’s a money guy, though. He works for one of the big firms. And he’s got his family’s fortune. So what’s the problem with researching him? He’s the opposition. We’re the researchers.”

  “I don’t know how to look for the right information about him. I have some basic stuff. Speeches, his campaign material, a couple of articles in Suffolk Life about him. They think he’s the Devil’s brother. And one piece in Newsday. They think he’s an angel sent from Heaven to toss the boss out in the cold.”

  “You want me to take a look at what you’ve got?”

  She shook her head.

  “No. I can analyze what I’ve got. I need information that’s not public. That’s what Ennis wants. Danny, I’m so scared he’s going to fire me.”

  “That’s not going to happen, Janet. I’ll find some stuff for you.”

  “Oh, Danny. I feel so...inadequate asking you.”

  “You’re great at what you do, Janet. I couldn’t do it. I’d tell the constituents to do the work themselves. You stick to that. I’ll come up with some stuff, give it to you, and you give it to Ennis after you read it.”

  Ennis walked over.

  “I’ve been looking for you, Mr. Ryle. And here you are hiding outside with Miss D’Amaro.”

  “We were talking about work, Mr. Ennis,” Janet said.

  “Go back inside, Miss D’Amaro. I need to talk with Mr. Ryle about work as well.”

  She was almost crying as she walked away.

  “What was that with the Congressman and the Rabbi?” he asked.

  “That was private.”

  “There’s no such thing as private around me.”

  “Your voice is rising, Mr. Ennis.”

  “You’re going to make me ask the Congressman, aren’t you?”

  “I’ll save you the trouble. I’m going to do some work for the Rabbi. The Congressman wants me to do so. You’re going to have to do without me for a couple of weeks.”

  “That’s insane. It’s already late.”

  “Take it up with the Congressman. I’m off. You want me to bring you back some doughnuts?”

  His face got serious.

  “I don’t eat doughnuts. I couldn’t. It would make me cry.”

  I stared at him.

  “You ever eat Crutchley’s Crullers?”

  I shook my head.

  “It was in Southampton. Closed in the 70s. I can still taste the sugared crullers. People came from all over to get them. You really think I could eat a doughnut after eating those heavenly fried cakes?”

  “I’m sorry I asked.”

  “Finish your work for this Rabbi as soon as you can, Mr. Ryle.”

  I nodded.

  Then I drove out to Sag Harbor to my father’s house.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  My father was in the garden. He had taken up the hobby after he stopped killing people.

  As hit men go, my father wasn’t a bad guy. He didn’t kill women or children. The men he killed were mostly killers themselves. He told me that he never touched an innocent man. His employer complained enough about that to make me believe some of it. I did know that my father had his own sort of moral code. He had fought in World War II across France and Germany and had, judging by his ribbons and medals, killed a lot of enemy soldiers. He was hospitalized when he returned, and I don’t think he ever recovered.

  My father was bigger than I was. He wanted to make sure no one thought he was weak, so he continued to work out. I was more like my mother, tall but slighter of build.

  He heard me and looked up.

  “Danny, I’m very pleased to see you.”

  I nodded. My brother and sister didn’t talk to him. They each had children and wanted to shield the kids from knowing about their grandfather.

  “Hi, Dad. I brought you a chocolate cake.”

  That brought a big smile.

  “I’ll clean up and make some coffee. You said you had some questions for me.”

  “I do.”


  We talked about the family. My father relied on me for information about his other children and his grandchildren.

  Finally, we were seated. We both eyed the chocolate cake.

  He served it and we began to eat.

  “You look good, Danny. Your Congressman will have a difficult race this time. People seem to like this Lucey fellow. He can talk the stripes off a zebra.”

  “He’s very articulate,” I said. “And good-looking. It will be a fight.”

  Enough small talk.

  “Dad, the Congressman has asked me to look into the murder of a Rabbi Gerald Siegel. It happened eighteen months ago in Lake Grove.”

  I told my father about the visit by Rabbi London, about how he was dying and wanted to resolve the murder. I told the whole story as much for me to hear it out loud to get ideas as for him to have all the facts.

  My father thought for a minute.

  “I remember the murder. I remember every murder on Long Island.”

  “I thought maybe you had heard about who might have done it.”

  “I don’t want to shock you, Danny, but I’m not familiar with every murderer in the Northeast.”

  He wasn’t smiling.

  “I know that. But you hear stuff others don’t. People trust you.”

  He saw I was trying to be decent, so he backed down.

  “I’ll tell you what I heard about that murder. Nothing. Now you might dismiss that, but don’t be so quick to do so. There was, probably, no professional hit on him, although a really clever guy would have hired talent from out of town and nobody here would have heard of it.”

  “Do you remember anything about the investigation?”

  “You’re a smart boy, Danny. You come to me first looking for a short-cut. There is none that I know of. You’ve got to talk to the regular people. You know who.”

  “Sure, Dad. The cops, the widow, Newsday reporter, those kind of people.”

  My father nodded. “The cops looked at the widow. You take a look at her you know she didn’t do it, but you’ve got to look at the spouse first. They cleared her. I don’t remember, but she had an alibi and, anyway, like I say, she wasn’t the kind of person that could kill.”

  My father ate a big piece of cake and thought for another minute.

  “The cops had suspects, but I don’t remember any of them. I’ll tell you somebody to look at because you wouldn’t think of it. You haven’t seen all of the nastiest dimensions of human nature yet.”

  “Who’s that, Dad?”

  “This Rabbi London, the friend of the Congressman.”

  “He’s no killer.”

  “Didn’t he become the head rabbi after Siegel’s death? Isn’t that what you said?”

  “Yes. So he had a motive. But why would he come to the Congressman? He could just let it go. Remember I said he’s dying.”

  My father shook his head. His boy had much to learn.

  “That’s exactly why. He’s dying. He’s a Rabbi. He thinks he’s going to see God face-to-face. He can’t bring himself to confess. But maybe he wants someone to catch him. Maybe he thinks if he’s found out here the punishment in the afterlife won’t be as bad.”

  “I didn’t even think of that,” I said. “But I met the guy. Just like you said about the widow. He’s not a killer.”

  “You think someone who meets me thinks I’m a killer?”

  I pondered that.

  “No.”

  He spread his hands out.

  “I wouldn’t rule anyone out.”

  I stared at him. “My gut says the guy didn’t do it. Anyway, you said the cops had their own suspects. I’m just at the beginning of this case. I hope I’ll find better suspects than Rabbi London.”

  My father looked down.

  “You ever hear from Hannah?”

  I felt a sudden ache. I wasn’t surprised.

  “No. I heard she left Long Island. Someone told me she moved south, maybe to Miami, but I’m not sure.”

  “I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”

  “No sorrier than I am, Dad. Two ships passing in the night. One ship liked the other ship, but that ship didn’t feel the same way.”

  My father nodded.

  He still missed my mother.

  “I’m too old to make suggestions about the case, Danny. Everyone I know is dead, retired, or they moved away. The whole picture is completely different. But I do have one warning for you.”

  “What’s that, Dad?”

  “You’ve got lots of talent, Danny. You’re a good man. A better man than I ever was. Maybe it was my fault. I kept you away from the worst kind of evil. You never did any wet work. You didn’t go to any funerals until you were older. I was careful who came to the house. And your mother was a wonder. She protected you.”

  “You got me a job with your boss when I was seventeen.”

  The job was delivering packages. Some guy would call me. I picked up a package and took it to whoever’s name was on the label. I never opened any packages. I didn’t know what was in them, and I didn’t want to know. It was probably drugs, money, evidence, or weapons. I stopped doing it when I was a sophomore in college. I told my father I didn’t want any more jobs from his boss.

  My father just nodded. It had been a mistake, but a useful one. I got to know people. I got to learn shady places on the Island. Years later, the Congressman had heard about me from one of the people in that world. So I was being unduly harsh with my father.

  My father continued.

  “You need somebody to protect you. Like a partner. Somebody who looks tough and is tough.”

  “I don’t think a professional criminal will sit well with the Congressman.”

  “Or you. I know. I’m not talking about anybody connected. Just someone who’s tough. An ex-marine, maybe. I can call a few people for recommendations.”

  “I’m fine, Dad. My guess is the killer is in jail somewhere.”

  “Just take care of yourself.”

  “I promise. So who do I go to first?”

  “The widow. She’ll have the clearest memory. She’ll know stuff about her late husband that no one else will. Then the detective in charge. And take it from there.”

  “You know you’ve almost finished the chocolate cake.”

  “You should visit more often, Danny.”

  “You’ve been very helpful, Dad.”

  “You’re my son. I’d die for you, Danny. In an instant.”

  “There’s no need for that.”

  It was awkward, but we hugged.

  I called Rabbi London and got information about the widow, including her address.

  He thanked me.

  I didn’t tell him I only had a few weeks to work on the case.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Mrs. Siegel was now Mrs. Wendell Kruzan. She had moved not long after the murder, and was now living in Bridgehampton, off Main Street and close to the ocean. She was soft-spoken and sad on the phone and said she and her husband would meet me in Southampton in front of the Rogers Memorial Library.

  I drove on the Expressway and made my way to Southampton. I parked behind the stores on Main Street and walked over to the Library. I saw a couple waiting. They looked about the right age.

  “Excuse me,” I said, “My name is Danny Ryle, and I’m...”

  “I am Mrs. Kruzan, Mr. Ryle.”

  She was small and pale with close-cropped white hair. She was the type of person who had never recovered from the shock of being born. Life’s tragedies filled her eyes.

  She put out her hand. It was thin. I took the hand, gave a quick shake, and said hello.

  “This is my husband Wendell.”

  He was bigger and stockier, with the short crew-cut appearance of a marine. He looked as though he knew his way around a gym.

  Mrs. Kruzan’s voice was soft. “Come, Mr. Ryle. Let us walk. I like to walk here every week, go past the library and think about how many books I haven’t read.”

  We walked a block, and turne
d left toward the duck pond. She didn’t stop once to look at the glittering prizes in the shop windows on Job’s Lane.

  Mrs. Kruzan went to the edge of the water, stopped, reached into her purse, took out a plastic bag filled with torn up pieces of bread, and threw some of the pieces to the ducks, who were more than willing to play along for the free food. Two girls were seated on the grass. A small child was running between them. A mother and her two sons were also throwing bread into the water. Wendell Kruzan crossed his arms, but he didn’t look unhappy to be there. He loved his wife.

  The air was clear, the sort of clear that made you think you could accomplish whatever you wanted in life.

  “You said this was about my first husband. You’re dredging up a lot of pain, Mr. Ryle.”

  “I truly apologize.”

  “Why are you interested?”

  “I work for Congressman Miles. One of his constituents has asked the office to look into the death of your first husband. I was assigned to the case.”

  “Are you some kind of detective?”

  “No, I’m not. I’m trying to ease the pain of the person who asked for our help.”

  “Who was it? Oh, don’t bother. You’ll talk very calmly in soothing tones about how sorry you are to have to keep the name private. It’s Benny London. Don’t bother saying so. He came to me a few weeks ago asking if I remembered anything. He’s most anxious to get an answer before he dies.”

  “Did you remember anything at all, Mrs. Kruzan?”

  “I’ll tell you what I told him. I moved out of that house as soon as I could. The new owners completely re-did it. You won’t find anything there. I didn’t know anything at the time of Gerry’s death, and I don’t know anything now.”

  Wendell Kruzan stepped in front of her.

  “Please don’t keep disturbing my wife, Mr. Ryle. The police did a thorough investigation. They even considered poor Martha here to be a suspect. They had no idea what they were doing. I’m sorry about Rabbi London’s illness, but it’s no excuse to dig around in the past, especially when you can see how upset you’ve made Martha.”